


Choices

by BeautifulThief



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, written for AoKise week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulThief/pseuds/BeautifulThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Aomine and Kise attend the same university - Ryouta faces two paths, and Daiki learns a few things he never knew about Kise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ryouta

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't bear to not write anything for every day but this was completely unplanned because I struggled with the prompt sobs

Neither of them expected to run into each other at university – despite that Akashi had simply commented that their futures were not something to be toyed with like their choice of high schools, none of them had seriously thought about the idea of them being in the same place.

Which was why, on the first day of practice at his university, Ryouta froze so fast he almost got whiplash upon seeing _Aomine Daiki_ in the gymnasium.

“There you are!” called Momoi, waving. “You’re late, Ki-chan!”

“What the fuck,” said Aomine, looking over.

Ryouta couldn’t help but internally agree with the sentiment.

It turned out that Momoi was in fact studying sports science at another (better) university – however, since they hadn’t had a basketball team, and she was just as basketball obsessed as the rest of them, she’d requested to work with their team, as the universities weren’t too far apart.

“How did you know I would be here, Momocchi?” Ryouta asks, although it’s a stupid question. Of course she knew. She probably predicted where they were all going before they’d made their decisions about where they were going. (She probably knew where they were all going before they’d all received their basketball scouting offers or sat their exams)

Ryouta wasn’t studying anything in particular. His projected career path at this point was torn between “professional basketball player” and “idol”; he hadn’t really been sure about going to university, but he hadn’t felt ready to commit to either one of the career paths in front of him, and studying was one of the few ways he had that could keep both options open and not _entirely_ appear to be stalling.

(Ryouta wondered sometimes if Momocchi’s analytical mind had already figured out his ultimate career path decision, and if she would tell him if he asked. He never seemed to be able to actually make the decision which way he wanted to go.)

Momoi looked at him like she was disappointed that he’d bothered to ask a question that they’d both known to be ridiculous. “Ki-chan, you know me better than that,” she said airily. “Now come over here. The coaches are going to start speaking soon.”

Ryouta walked over, feeling increasingly nervous with each step he took towards Aomine. Of all the people he’d expected to see here, Aomine was the one he’d expected the least, and probably the only one of his former teammates that would have evoked such mixed feelings of elation and disappointment upon learning that they would once again share a team and a jersey.

The disappointment was only natural – the best games Ryouta had played for Kaijou had been games against Aomine, or against Kuroko and Kagami. It made sense to be disappointed to be denied the thrill of challenge posed by facing off against Aomine.

But the excitement... well, that was more complicated.

Aomine elbowed him, startling him back to the present. “Oi, we’re sitting out. We get to watch the rest of the hopefuls attempt to make the team.”

He looked annoyed, like it was a waste of his time. If he didn’t know him so well, Ryouta would probably believe that was the case; but he was at least 75% sure that Aomine was actually annoyed that he wouldn’t get to play today.

He smiled, and followed Aomine over to the bench to sit down.

Ryouta let his mind pick up his thoughts again. The excitement was complicated for a few reasons. Playing at and for Teikou had been a formative experience – playing beside Aomine at that time was a special kind of experience, one that Ryouta treasured deep in his heart. It was in that place and time that he’d discovered basketball and Aomine, that he’d finally discovered a flame strong enough to light him up. There would always be a very special bond between the lot of them that most outsiders would never begin to understand; something deep and unshakable about being a _Miracle_.

And of course, Ryouta had loved Aomine. Ryouta had loved Aomine so much it had hurt, had loved him so fiercely that he’d thought it would burn him up and leave him a hollow figure of a person, because Aomine then was the kind of person who did that, the kind of person who inspired you to go to such lengths for them, the kind of person it was an enormous privilege to be burned by.

He was broken from his reverie again by another elbow to the side. He turned to look at Aomine.

“Let’s grab a ball and get out of here,” Aomine muttered. His eyes were on Momoi, who was watching the tryouts with a contented smile. “They don’t need our input.”

All of a sudden, what it meant to be on a team with Aomine again crashed into Ryouta. It meant one on ones whenever they liked, never being afraid of revealing their new secrets too soon; it meant talking to Aomine about where he should go next with his game; it meant spending time together again as teammates, hearing about Horikita Mai all the time and dinner sometimes after practice, and listening to Aomine grizzle as he’s pulled away for an autograph of photo with a fan.

“Yeah,” Ryouta answered quietly. “Yeah, okay.”

“No way,” Momoi said, not even looking at them as she did. Aomine’s eyes narrowed at her. “That’s so disrespectful.” She sighed. “Dai-chan’s always been such a terrible influence on you, Ki-chan.”

And Ryouta wasn’t even sure if he could argue that wasn’t the case, so he could only smile sheepishly at Aomine. “After?” he asks in a low voice, and Aomine’s glare softens and gives way to a slight upturn of his lips.

Ryouta hopes that Aomine’s figured out what it means to be on a team again too.

 

* * *

 

“Well, they’re not bad,” Aomine says as they wander from the gymnasium after tryouts are done. He’s stretching his hands above his head, and Ryouta’s trying to ignore the way Aomine’s muscles look so fantastic when he does that, so he dribbles the ball they took with them to distract himself. “They’re a good team. Well, Satsuki wouldn’t have recommended the team if it wasn’t.”

“Did Momocchi tell you I was going to be here?” Ryouta asks. He’s pretty sure the answer is _no_ , given his surprise when Ryouta arrived, but he wants to check.

“No.” Aomine’s face darkens. “She failed to mention it, but I know better than to think she didn’t know. No offense, Kise, but if I’d known you were coming here I would have picked somewhere else. It’s probably not going to be as interesting with us together.”

“It’s okay,” Ryouta answers. “I would have gone somewhere else if someone had told me you would be here too.”

For some reason, even though Aomine said it first, this doesn’t seem to make Aomine any happier. Ryouta’s just glad they’ve arrived at the nearest street court by now.

Usually they would have taken advantage of the fact they were already inside a fully equipped gymnasium, but it was as if everyone in the club had figured that the two of them were going to want to go head to head and hung around to see it. It had been somewhat off-putting for both of them; while neither was a stranger to being watched as they played after years of national tournament appearances, their one-on-one games at Teikou had never been considered a spectacle like that, and somehow the large audience made them both uncomfortable. As if something private was being intruded upon.

There were some kids playing on half of the court, but that was okay. Ryouta waved at them as they headed to the other half of the court, and they settled into wary stances to play.

They’d been at it about half an hour before Momoi interrupted them, swinging the gymnasium keys on her finger.

“The crowds are gone now,” she told them. “And you came out here with only that basketball, not even water bottles. That wasn’t very smart.”

Aomine stood up straight and looked at her. “You brought them, didn’t you?” he asked. Momoi puffed out her cheeks in outrage.

“Of course I did, but only because I felt so bad for Ki-chan!”

Ryouta couldn’t help laughing as he wiped the sweat from his face with his shoulder. “Sorry, Momocchi, Aominecchi really is a bad influence after all.”

“Oi!”

Ryouta trots over to Momoi for the proffered water bottle. “We should return this basketball to its home. You said the crowds are gone?”

Momoi nodded. “You can’t just run away every time people want to watch,” she said. “I know this is kind of special for you guys, but everyone really looks up to you, so it’s not very nice to run away.”

“They’ll see us at practice,” Ryouta whined. “This is ours.”

Aomine sighed and walked over to join them. “We’re going back then?” he asked Ryouta, who nodded.

“So, are you still living at home, Aominecchi?”

“Ah, yeah.” Aomine ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “Since I want to get scouted, I don’t have the time to devote to a job to pay for my own place. You lived closer to Kanagawa though, didn’t you?”

Ryouta hummed. “Well, I had an apartment there,” he said. “The commute to Kaijou would have been annoying from where my family lives. I have a new apartment nearer to here now.” He smiled. “It’s a little smaller than the Kanagawa place, but it’s still nice.”

“It must be nice to live on your own,” Aomine muttered.

Ryouta tilted his head. “Well, sometimes,” he admitted, “but it gets lonely sometimes too.”

Momoi turned the topic to Ryouta’s job then, and that conversation carried them back to the gymnasium.

“Ah, I should get going,” Momoi said as they walked inside. “I want to get home before it’s too dark. Are you coming, Dai-chan?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” Aomine picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Ryouta did the same.

“I’ll see you at practice, Aominecchi,” Ryouta called as they split.

Aomine waved, but didn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

The days settled into an odd rhythm.

Most of Ryouta’s classes were during the day, with a few early morning classes. He wasn’t sure what Aomine was studying, but they didn’t share any classes, though occasionally Ryouta caught glimpses of him around the campus.

And there was practice most afternoons. Aomine attended them all, despite that, Ryouta discovered, Momoi was only there once a week. It was odd – strange, to see the Aomine that he’d known for the last three years attending and working away at practice. He wasn’t... the same kid that Ryouta had known at Teikou, before everything had gone wrong, but he wasn’t the same bitter, jaded nasty guy he’d been either.

They wouldn’t go one-on-one after every practice, but it was at least twice a week. They still tried to avoid being watched, when at all possible, but Ryouta pointed out that the nearest street court wouldn’t exactly be hard to find if anyone _really_ wanted to watch them.

They’d played late one evening and were getting dinner out when Aomine asked about Ryouta’s plans.

“Eh?”

Aomine fidgeted, and repeated himself. “What’s your plan?”

Ryouta sighed and leaned into the palm of his hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m doing some general degree those kids who have no plans for their life do. My agent wants me to make a decision about whether we’re going to go for professional basketball or we’re going to try to do something with my established career. I could go be a supermodel, or an idol, bounce from the modelling thing and the fanbase I’ve already built. I just haven’t made the decision yet. That’s why I’m studying.” Ryouta let his lip curl in one of the corners. “I’m not all that good in school, we both know that. But while I’m here I can still weigh the options. I don’t have to choose one path or the other yet.”

“Just pick basketball already and be done with it,” Aomine said bluntly. Ryouta’s head jerked straight and he looked at him. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re going to pick basketball. You, me, Kagami, there’s only one place us idiots are going. We’re not heirs to business conglomerates like Akashi, or stupid smart like Midorima, who’s been planning on being a doctor since he was like, five, or Murasakibara who’s at least got the brains to do something else if he wanted to.”

Ryouta laughed. “You make it sound like such a simple decision.”

Well, it was a simple decision for Aomine, after all.

“I could be famous,” Ryouta says.

“If you wanted it,” Aomine challenged, “you would have done it already. You don’t love the idol stuff as much as you love the basketball, so why kid yourself about the outcome? Just commit already.”

“My modelling pays for my apartment,” he points out.

That makes Aomine pause. “Well... maybe you should share with someone.”

Ryouta narrows his eyes. “You are not moving into my apartment.”

 

* * *

 

Aomine moves in two weeks later, and Ryouta’s brain wants to beat his stupid heart to death for giving in.

It’s been easy to ignore, he thinks as he flops onto his bed, but now that Aomine’s going to _always be there_ , it’s going to be harder.

The feelings have come back.


	2. Daiki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 written for Day 3 of AoKise Week - Learning

The first week of living with Kise is full of surprises.

Daiki's not surprised by the clutter of girly skin and hair products in the bathroom, but he is surprised by the complete lack of ingredients for cooking in the apartment. Kise explains that every weekend he visits his parents at home and they've always over-compensated for their guilt in him having to live on his own at Kaijou, so he pretty much lives on leftovers and goes out for dinner when he doesn't. He eats toast and fruit for breakfast.

Kise has no ingredients for cooking because Kise cannot cook to save his life.

It's not that his cooking is deadly, like Satsuki's, apparently. He just can't seem to get anything to taste right when he tries. Everything always ends up weird in texture and flavour.

Kise is also quieter at home than he expects.

He's never really experienced Kise in anything other than the outside world. Kise in his natural habitat hums cheerful pop songs, leaves magazines and clothes everywhere, but he doesn't constantly bug Daiki for... _anything_. He doesn't beg for one-on-ones, or for Daiki to clean up after himself (which Daiki would immediately point out as being enormously hypocritical), or for him to cook, since Daiki's got _some_ basic cooking skills, if only so he won't die of starvation or Satsuki's cooking.

The other thing he learns is that Kise is rarely actually home for anything other than the occasional study session, or sleep.

He figures it out about two weeks after moving in. By that time, he has a vague idea of Kise's class schedule, practice schedule, and modelling schedule. And that doesn't include any outings with friends that Kise makes. Kise is _busy_. With the way they'd been at Teikou, Daiki had never really noticed the way Kise had made space in his hectic life for the members of the basketball team, but it was hard not to notice that Kise often worked after practice now that he called Kise's apartment home.

He'd thought that living with Kise would be like being around Kise was – full of sparkles and tireless energy. This wasn't a bad change from that picture, or even an unwelcome one. It was just odd, something Daiki had never really considered.

Another thing he didn't consider, at least until Satsuki brought it up, was the idea that Kise might run himself into the ground overworking himself.

"Sounds like you don't actually see that much of Ki-chan at home," Satsuki had commented as Daiki walked her home after one of the afternoons she spent with the team.

"Well, sometimes he's there," Daiki admits, "but he's just not as noisy as I expected."

Satsuki hummed. "It makes sense," she said. "Ki-chan needs somewhere to unwind, just like the rest of us."

It's not as if Daiki's thought Kise's a god, but there always seemed something very otherworldly about him – whether it was his uncanny ability to mimic others, down to their littlest mannerisms that Daiki wouldn't have credited Kise with the perception to pick up, or the way he was absurdly pretty for a boy, and the way he managed to grow into a terrifyingly beautiful man; whatever it was there was something somehow _inhuman_ about Kise.

He says as much, and Satsuki laughs.

"Ki-chan's just as human as you are, Dai-chan." She pauses. "Keep an eye on him, okay? Between the training for basketball and his work and socialisation, he's probably running himself a little thin."

"Hah?" Daiki scratches the side of his face. "He's been doing this for years, why would he be running thin now?"

Satsuki must take pity on his intellect – it wouldn't be the first time – and explains it to him. "The demands on Ki-chan in the club are more than at a high school level, and he's only gotten more in demand for modelling work as he's gotten older. He hasn't devoted any _less_ time to either of those, or to his socialisation – Ki-chan is a social creature, after all, and feeds from his interactions with others. I don't know how he's managing to juggle everything."

The answer was that he _wasn't_ , Daiki discovered that afternoon when he arrived home after making the trip to Satsuki's home, stopping by to visit his parents, and then returning. Kise had fallen fast asleep at the small table they had in the kitchen and living space, papers and books surrounding him and laptop open, though the screen had darkened as the device hibernated. A quick look at some of Kise's work told Daiki that Kise's grades were just as abysmal as ever.

Part of him felt like he should shake his friend awake – he seriously doubted that Kise had _intended_ to fall asleep here – but as he looked at Kise, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he wandered into Kise's room and pulled his blanket from his bed, and dropped it over his shoulders before turning to the kitchen to pull something simple together.

"Still won't make the fucking call," he muttered to himself. There was no reason for Kise do grind himself down so far, to do so much work. He didn't need to stop modelling to maintain the cost of living and still earn money to put away on top of training.

It seemed like such a simple decision to Daiki, after all. He'd never really considered a future in which Kise didn't play basketball; it had been strange to learn that was Kise actually considering not taking it as far as it could go, especially when Kise was just as ridiculously, prodigiously talented as Daiki was. It seemed the obvious route; and it wasn't as if Kise couldn't capitalise on his old career in sponsorship deals and such, once they actually got into pro leagues.

He had to bring his thoughts back as he prepared dinner – he'd wake Kise up when food was ready. Daiki was pretty lazy all around, and he wasn't shy about admitting it; he didn't like to cook just for himself, on the occasions he bothered to cook at all. It had been no great change in routine to cook for Kise too when he did, since he'd usually only cooked for multiple people anyway.

It wasn't any great culinary feat, but it was _edible_ , which was more than he could say for the food he'd watched Kise make on their first night, when he'd demanded proof of Kise's inability to cook, and so he found the plates (somehow, the way that Kise's kitchen was organised worked for Daiki) and then went to shake Kise awake.

"Hmm?"

Daiki had seen Kise sleeping and sleepy at the back of the bus after a game in their days at Teikou; even then, there'd been something oddly captivating about the way his eyes would flutter as he stirred awake, and the way he would blink his eyes only half open as he tried to make sense of the world again. There was something more striking to it, and less 'cute', now that Kise's features had come into their sharper, adult form.

"I've made food," Daiki says.

"You didn't have to," Kise answers, and as he sits up, he notices the blanket.

"Make sure you stretch," is all he replies with as he returns to the kitchen. "Sleeping that way can't be good for your back."

 

* * *

 

Daiki's a little bit disgusted by how easily everything becomes so _domestic_.

He doesn't even really notice it at first. Finding Kise sleeping at the table, surrounded by his study materials, or on the couch where he'd collapsed for a quick rest before moving the rest of the way to his bedroom after practice or work, and crashed out accidentally there instead of in his bed became almost terrifyingly normal. Daiki convinces Kise to invest in a blanket for the couch, for the occasions he finds Kise in these places.

Kise won't make a fucking decision, and it's driving him slowly crazy because everyone seems to know which way Kise's going to go _except_ for Kise. The lack of a decision looks like its driving Kise crazy even faster than it is Daiki, though, mostly because the blond boy didn't seem to have enough hours in the day, or enough energy to do everything.

It comes as absolutely no surprise to Daiki that Kise's body gives up on him and demands rest in the form of Kise getting the flu.

It starts when Daiki wakes up to the sound of Kise stumbling through the house in the early hours of the morning of a day when they do not have practice or class, but Kise has work. But Kise's usually pretty easy to live with – Daiki's neither a heavy nor light sleeper, but Kise always tiptoes around as if the slightest noise will wake him.

He heard a thud which sounded alarmingly like a body hitting a wall, and Kise's not usually so uncoordinated to run into walls, so he groaned and hauled himself up to check on what the fuck's wrong this morning.

Kise's cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright but the rest of him is shaking. Daiki figured it out almost immediately.

"Are you going to be sick?" he asked. Kise shook his head, so Daiki pointed back towards Kise's bedroom. "Then you're going back to bed."

"But I have work," Kise said, and Daiki stared him down harder than he could remember ever doing off the court, and then said, perfectly flat:

"I _will_ throw you over my shoulder and drag your ass back into that room, don't think I won't."

"If you did that I probably _would_ throw up on you," Kise groaned, seeming to pale even at the thought of being tossed around like that. But he seemed to get that Daiki's perfectly serious, and sighed before slouching back into his room.

"Call your manager," Daiki yelled at his back.

"I don't need you to tell me that, stupid!" Kise shouted, not looking at him.

"Of course you don't," Daiki muttered to himself as he walked into the kitchen. "You just need me to stop you from fucking going to work when you're about to fall over and the moment your stylists saw you they'd send you straight back home anyway making your entire trip a waste of time and energy."

Daiki fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, then made a side-trip to the bathroom for pain-killers before he let himself into Kise's room.

"Here," he said, putting the water on the bedside table with the medicine. "Seriously, what did you do when you got sick living in Kanagawa?"

Kise hunkered down into the blankets and glared at him. "I never got sick," he grumbled. "I'm usually very healthy and don't get sick."

Daiki rolled his eyes hard and sat himself down next to Kise. "You're overworked," he told his friend. "You need to make a decision. Your body won't put up with this shit anymore."

"You're picking _now_ for this talk?" Kise whimpered. "Aominecchi..."

Daiki scowled. "Well, it's not like you listened to me last time." Okay, so it wasn't nice to beat on people who were already downed, but Kise was as stubborn as they came; he needed ammunition.

Kise made a wailing noise and let himself fall face-first into his pillow.

He's too soft. He'd never admit it, but he's too damn soft, and he can't do it. He sighed as he stood. "I'll check in on you later," he muttered. "I have better things to do than this."

A muffled humming noise is all he gets from the pile of blankets on the bed.

What Daiki really wanted to do was play basketball or sleep. Neither was really an option if he wanted to keep an eye on Kise in case the idiot tried to do something stupid.

Really, he was so troublesome. He was really lucky Daiki liked him.

Well, if he was going to be up and about, he might as well make breakfast. He busied himself in the kitchen, and if he cut up an apple for Kise, well, it wasn't like he'd gone out of his _way_.

When he wandered into Kise's bedroom again, he was relieved to see he'd taken the medicine and drunk the water.

"Are you up to eating anything?" Daiki asked. When he didn't get a response from the pile of blankets, he pulled them back from where he figured Kise's face was. The idiot was asleep, lines pressed into his skin from the fabric. It was so mundane Daiki couldn't help the smile that tugged at him.

Ah shit. Kise was too pretty by far.

Sometimes, Daiki thought, it was a shame he'd never worked up the courage to confront his blond friend about his obvious massive crush in junior high. (Honestly, the fact that Daiki had known had little to do with his own powers of deduction, though he tended to ignore that fact – Satsuki had simply requested he be gentle on Kise's heart, and it had been difficult _not_ to figure it out after that, which was probably the intention) Daiki had always been kind of _fascinated_ by how pretty he was, since it seemed kind of unreal. Daiki had once seen an old modelling picture of the sister who'd gotten Kise into the business, and she'd looked so much like Kise. After seeing it, he'd caught himself thinking about Kise's pretty face more than a handful of times afterward, wondering if he'd blush like a cute girl if Daiki kissed him, or if he'd challenge him in return the way he always did in a game, and the weird mixture of thoughts and emotions had confused him until he'd stopped caring about everything.

He'd thought it was just a phase – it wasn't weird that he fixated on Kise, he was pretty sure _everyone_ had a phase where they found themselves caught up in Kise's pretty face and sparkles and shit; Daiki knew that Midorima had gone through it (stumbling through a few drills when Kise had first joined the first string, and the way he'd watched Kise with a hilarious expression which was the combination of pained - as if asking why his god had forsaken him - and longing), that Tetsu had gone through it (Tetsu had always had such a soft spot for puppies – and the way Tetsu would pick on Kise had been brutal for a while, the way it always was with his favourite people), that Akashi had, for a short while before he'd gone all psychopath on them (he'd looked at Kise as if he was an expensive piece of artwork); Satsuki'd sighed over Kise before the crush on Tetsu, before Kise had joined the team – he could remember the magazines she'd collected with him in it, and it had been how he'd recognised the blond boy when the ball had gone sailing out the door and straight into Kise's skull.

(Daiki wasn't sure about Murasakibara – that kid was a full on mutant, but judging by his partiality to his pretty friend with the hair, Daiki wouldn't put it past the tall boy)

So he'd thought, and then... then they were here, they were playing basketball together all the time, and Daiki had managed to badger his way into Kise's apartment and life and...

Well, he was pretty sure if he'd just kissed Kise in junior high to rid himself of the curiosity of what it would be like, then he wouldn't be so caught up in the idea of it now.

(Now that he knew Kise was real, now that Kise had lost that edge of ethereality that had made him seem less human and more like the image he projected for the world to see – it was dangerous, to know that Kise was human.)

He settled the covers back around Kise, and wandered back to the living room, eating the apple pieces he'd cut up as he went.

It was, however, only the beginning of Kise's illness. While watching old basketball game recordings on the TV later that day, he heard Kise's rapid footsteps and then the sound of retching in the bathroom. Thanking whatever gods existed that Satsuki's early experiments in cooking had left him with a stomach which was almost unflappable, he hauled himself up from the couch to join Kise in the bathroom.

Kise was sweaty and pale, except for his cheeks which were flushed. His hands were shaking as he leaned his head against the floor.

"Any more coming?" Daiki asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Maybe," Kise muttered. "Give it a few minutes."

Daiki sighed as Kise sat up again to lean over the toilet bowl, and moved to rub his back as he heaved.

"I feel awful," he admitted.

"You look awful," Daiki told him. "If you're not doing any better tomorrow, I'll take you to the doctor."

Kise slumped back against him, and Daiki let him, brushing his sweaty hair from his face.

"I need to brush my teeth," Kise mumbled. "Ugh."

Daiki helped him stand, and hovered as he brushed his teeth.

"Thank you, Aominecchi."

Daiki shrugged. "I'm not doing this all for nothing," he said. "I'll collect on the favour later."

"I'll tell my agent about the decision," Kise said as he walked back to his room.

"Basketball?" Daiki asked.

Kise laughed quietly.

 

* * *

 

Daiki collected on the favour about two weeks later.

He'd been thinking for a while about what he was going to collect from Kise for the favour of taking care of the idiot while he was sick.

"I've decided," Daiki said as he lounged on the couch. Kise looked up from where he was looking through his portfolio.

"Hmm?"

"The favour I want," Daiki clarified. "I've decided."

Kise closed the folder.

"I want you to kiss me."

The effects of the words were almost instantaneous. Kise's face went rapidly red, and his eyes widened.

"You're not serious," Kise said, but it wasn't a question.

"Come on. I'm curious." Daiki leered at him, grinning. "When else am I going to get the chance to kiss a famous model?"

"You understand that I'm a man, right," Kise continued. "Like, I know I'm pretty, and I know more than a few girls who'd be pretty happy to inherit the contents of my bathroom, but I _am_ actually a man."

"Are you scared, Kise-kun?" Daiki teased. That ought to do it – and it did, the iron of a challenge settling into Kise's eyes.

"Never," Kise told him, and stood up. Daiki waited on the couch, watching.

The fact that he didn't sit up was, in hindsight, a gross miscalculation that Kise took great advantage of.

Kise moved with all the unconscious grace he carried himself with on a basketball court, and without hesitating, he swung a leg over Daiki's hips. Then he leaned over him, and Daiki's vision was filled with Kise, with his ridiculous eyelashes and pretty face and pink lips.

Kise's face hovered just a few short centimetres away, and Daiki's breath caught involuntarily – and then Kise kissed him, hard and demanding and it left Daiki breathless and reaching, and—

Kise caught his wrists as his hands moved to touch him, and he pinned them above his head.

"You," Daiki said, "are fucking amazing."

Kise bit Daiki's lip in retaliation. "Are you satisfied with that, Aominecchi?" he asked.

"No. Do it again."

Kise hummed. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said, though he leaned in close to Daiki's face anyway.

"Don't be a tease, Kise," Daiki murmured.

"Aominecchi is the one being a tease," Kise complained. "It's not nice to toy with people's hearts."

"Yeah, so why don't you stop teasing and kiss me already?"

Kise let go of his hands as if he was burned. "That's not funny, Aominecchi."

"Wasn't a joke." Daiki sat up, and it was his turn to catch at Kise's wrists, so he couldn't run. "Don't go."

Kise's eyes wouldn't land on Daiki's face. "Aominecchi..."

Daiki let his arms slide from Kise's wrists – one hand went to touch Kise's pretty, handsome face, and the other curled around his solid, powerful body to press against Kise's back. "Don't run."

The kiss he initiated was gentle and slow and not half as long as Daiki would have liked, but that hadn't been the point. The point was to reassure Kise.

"Are you sure?" Kise asked, and he looked kind of vulnerable, kind of like he was praying for the answer he wanted, but afraid to hear the answer in case it wasn't the one he wanted.

"Are you?" Daiki counter-challenged.

" _Yes_ ," was Kise's answer; and then Daiki showed him exactly how sure he was.

 

* * *

 

Living with Kise, Daiki learned, was nothing like he'd expected it to be.

But, he thought, it was probably better than anything he'd thought it could be.


End file.
